The Home
by Ghost of a Browncoat
Summary: With age comes Clarity. Or so they say.


**I'm currently planning out the rest of "How a Heart Behaves", so the next chapter will be coming on the 27****th****. But this popped up in my mind while planning, and I figured writing two stories at a time wont be hard. So enjoy.**

_It's that time of year  
Leave all our hopelessness aside  
If just for a little while  
Dear, stop right here  
I know we'll follow the bumpy ride  
I'm secretly on your side  
----- Imogen Heap_

Callie Torres hated being told what to do, even at age seventy-eight. Especially at age seventy-eight. Wasn't there suppose to be dignity with age? Instead, she was being forced into a wheel chair that she didn't need, just to be wheeled around a stupid Home. Where's the dignity in that?

She didn't have any kids, any close relatives, never married. Crappy life and she'd be the first to tell you that. An empty life that left her bitter. The current situation wasn't helping her to improve her mood, either. There were too many young, smiling faces looking at her in that piteous kind of way, as they all offered to help her out of her chair. She just scowled at them and jerked away, raising her weight onto her shaky legs. Screw these young people and their good knees.

The first thing she noticed about the Home when she first arrived was that it smelt like spoiled milk. That milky smell that was associated to babies and old people alike, and it was overpowering. Callie crinkled her nose and moved to sit on the ugly, green and red flowered sofa that was in the sitting room. It was quiet, at least.

There were about ten other people in the room with her, six old and four workers. The workers scurried about between the six retired folks, who seemed more than pleased for the attention. Callie instantly hated them. They even dressed like old people, with their pants baggy around their wastes and their boxer shorts hanging out. Didn't they know that went out of style forty years ago?

Callie was what she considered to be a "cool, but aged women." She kept up with the styles, made her hair nice and kept it long. She hated the short curly hair styles that old people always wore, no matter what generation they were in. If only she had had kids, they would've have appreciated her hipness.

An old man with bushy eyebrows carefully lowered himself onto the couch next to her, and rested his cane on his knee before turning to grin at her with his fake teeth. Callie offered him a fake smile, which he obviously took for the real deal because he started to ramble on about how dear his kids were. He even began fetching old baby pictures out of his wallet to proudly display to her. She couldn't help but wonder why he was in this Home if his kids were so wonderful, but she couldn't bring herself to actually ask.

The man rambled on for god knows how long before he started dozing off while sitting up. Callie rolled her eyes. Damn stereotypical old people gave her a bad image.

"Oh, he's so cute, isn't he?" An old lady chirped from the other side of the room, fanning her face with her hand to signify that he apparently made her hot. Callie glanced back down at the man and crinkled her nose. All she saw was a whole lot of wrinkles and too much nose hair. "Oh, what I would've done to him if I were thirty years younger!" The lady giggled again, pressing her wrinkled hand to her equally wrinkled mouth. Callie hoped she wasn't that wrinkly.

"Yeah, I suppose." Callie offered with a weak smile, as she patted the man's knee. The old women giggled like a school girl once again, and began to fan her face with more vigor. Callie chuckled to herself. Pervy old lady.

She, despite her sexually active adult life, didn't practice much of her old ways any more. Well, any of them, to be more precise. She hadn't had sex in nearly twenty years, or kissed someone in a more than fond way in fifteen. She was contented with this, surprisingly. She hadn't wanted intimacy with anyone, so she didn't. That was the end of that.

The women fanning her face rambled on about her sex filled teen years, and Callie zoned in and out, muttering acknowledgements here and there to make it seem like she was interested. Just to feign politeness, because if she made it look like she had friends, the workers kept off her ass about making some.

"---What?" An shaky, man's voice croaked on the other side of the room as he cocked his head towards the blonde woman sitting next to him. Callie smiled. They looked like a cute old couple, the man in his little tie, and the woman with her long blonde hair pulled back tight into a pony tail. He was wearing a tux and she was wearing an old red hoodie and gray sweatpants. Not exactly matching, but still cute. His hand was on her knee, patting it gently.

"I _said_, if you don't get your hand off my knee this instant, I'm going to punch you in your god damn nose!" The women all but yelled through clenched teeth, instantly shattering the lovely old couple look. The women's face contorted in anger as the man didn't do anything to move.

"What?" He croaked again, his smile still on his face as he squinted at her through his glasses. The women visibly fumed.

"That's it, you old bastard—" The woman cocked her fist back, ready to lay it on the clueless man.

"Ms. Hahn! Ms. Hahn! Please, you just arrived, and the Mr. Carlston is only being friendly!" A worker rushed to her side, and placed his hands over the attacking woman's fist. "Isn't that right, Mr. Carlston?" The worker looked at the old man pleadingly.

"Oh, Hello there, sonny! I haven't seen you around here in a while!" The man smiled at the worker blissfully, earning a groan from Ms. Hahn.

"You imbecile! The man works here, for crying out load! You see him everyday!" Ms. Hahn's tone was growing more and more exasperated, but her hand lowered back into her lap. It was still clasped in a tight fist, however.

"What?" Ms. Hahn exploded out of her chair in such a fast way that it was hard to believe she was in a Home. Ripping the man's hand away from her knee, the angry woman stormed across the room and plopped down on the coach next to Callie, muttering threats under her breath as the still clueless man waved at her.

Callie was speechless. Ms. Hahn? Hahn, blonde hair, explosive personality, quick to spit insults… It couldn't be. She stared at the woman for a long while, before stunning blue eyes turned to stare at her angrily. "Oh, don't tell me you can't hear either?"

"E-Erica?" She sputtered, her mouth growing dry as her old heart raced. The woman who could very well be Erica stared at her a moment, her blondish gray eyebrows furrowing.

"How do you…?" Blue eyes widened as they flickered across Callie's face, soaking it all in. "No… It couldn't be…" She breathed, her fingers coming to rest upon a wrinkling tan cheek. "Callie?"

Callie nodded slowly, her words knocked right out of her mouth


End file.
